


Cakerie

by bombcollar, hibiscushavoc



Series: strawberry shortcake [1]
Category: Bugsnax (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Novelized RP Thread, symbiote au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29163432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bombcollar/pseuds/bombcollar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hibiscushavoc/pseuds/hibiscushavoc
Summary: Gramble isn't faring well, so Snaktooth itself steps in to help him out.
Series: strawberry shortcake [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140929
Kudos: 37





	Cakerie

**Author's Note:**

> This is a novelized RP thread between myself and hibiscushavoc. I edited it as best I could for clarity, but there may be some weird tense stuff. If you spot anything that needs editing, let me know.
> 
> Endgame spoilers.

The sun was up, just starting to peek through the window of the barn's loft. Gramble knew he had to get up, let his snax out so they could run around the yard. Didn't seem like they ever ate, but he still had to muck hay mixed with caramel or jelly or chocolate sauce out of their pens every day. Damn if he wasn't tired, though. This wasn't even heavy ranch work, but not having anything he could eat aside from what he could pluck off Wambus' sauce plants when Wambus wasn't looking didn't make for much of a proper diet. From always feeling cold despite the balmy island temperature and having to keep his sweater on to hide the missing patches of fur, he didn't know how much longer he could go on like this.

"I feel like I'm fallin' to pieces, girl..." he mutters to one of his Kweebles, leaning on the gate to the pen. It peers up at him with a squeaky "kwee!" which makes him smile a little. At least someone looked forward to seeing him every day. He unlocks the gate and lets the little fruit monster waddle past him to the open yard. However, he turns a little too quickly as he starts for the next door, vision fuzzing and darkening as he falls forward, landing flat on his face on the barn floor.

Someone is speaking. Or at least, there's a low, dim rumble of noise that sounds akin to words, though a little hard to make out at first. It seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, no clear source though its low enough that only Gramble can hear it. If he isn't losing his mind, anyway.

" _Grr... ramble... Yyyou are... weak."_ The voice (or is it voices?) seems to speak without _malice,_ only stating fact. _"Your... lit-ttle ones will... be capt... ured without a... watchful... eeeeye."_ Whatever this is speaking doesn't seem to have a clear grip on speaking, though it does seem to understand language...

Gramble groans quietly to himself. Were these just more auditory hallucinations? The ones he'd had before, when he was lying in his hammock by the beach, those spoke in the voices of his parents, his siblings, cold and disapproving... or they spoke in Liz's voice, but he could never make out her words. This was something else entirely, perhaps another product of his splintering psyche, perhaps not. It wasn't mocking, it almost seemed concerned... "They... I gotta protect them..." he mumbles, trying to will his arms to move, but his body just won't respond. He can only lie there on the dusty floor, staring dimly at the open backdoor. Had he locked it before he'd gone to bed, or had someone been in here...

Its voices seems familiar in a way that can't quite be placed. There's a moment of silence before it speaks again, stating _, "We... can help yyyou. To not be... lonely... again."_

What did it know about him? Maybe this was just his own thoughts echoed back to him. It would explain why it sounded so familiar, yet he couldn't place it. "Huh...? Whadda.... wha d'you mean?"

 _"These... snax. Your kin,"_ The voice stated, seeming to learn to talk as they continued to speak. Actively learning _. "They won't... llleave you. Like your othhher kin. Iffff... you can call them thhhat. Anymore. Wouldn't you like... to be with them? Ffforever?"_ The voices, more clearly groups of them, grow louder. It almost sounds like they're speaking from the floor directly below Gramble. _"Become... snax. Join us and we will... never be alone again."_

"My kin..." he repeats groggily. Yes, they were his kin, no doubt about that. Even in their limited way, the snax had shown him more affection than any of his own family members ever had. He'd happily spend the rest of his life here looking after them, but the way things seemed to be going, that might not be for very much longer. Not unless he gave in and ate them like everybody else did. Almost everybody. He dimly thinks of Shelda, who also refused the snax. Was she doing okay? Was she also lying in the sand, hallucinating voices.

There's a soft pitter patter of little legs on the wood, and an enticing aroma greets the grumpus as a small baby cakelegs gently bumps against Gramble's snout. It gives a cheerful cry of its name, seemingly there to remind Gramble of his duty to his little ones. He definitely didn't have this one in his barn. He'd never even seen it before. It was so _cute._ "Hey lil' guy..." Gramble manages to lift his hand and pat the creature on the spongy tip of its wedge. "I... I don't think I understand. I can't become them, I'd have to eat 'em, and I can't..."

 _"You just don't... want to hurt... anybody,"_ The voices say, seemingly more to themselves than anything _. "And... you won't. The snax will live inside... of you. Gramble."_ There's a small rumbling sound, like something beneath the earth shifting. Something large, powerful _. "In becoming snax... you won't hurt them. If you... allow them... inside. No more death. No more loss. No more pain. Only family. Only... bugsnax."_

The baby cakelegs plops its little body on the floor in front of Gramble, its candle-like legs splayed around disconnectedly as its googly eyes look into the grumpus's. "Baby! Baby cakelegs!" It said, somehow without a mouth to speak, as the snax did. It wasn't running, nor was it milling about as the snax usually did when left to their own devices. All it was doing was waiting.

Gramble swallows. His throat is dry. If this was anyone else trying to convince him... Filbo, Wambus, Wiggle... even Liz... he might not have believed them. He didn't even know who it was who was talking to him now, but the voice is comforting, like a deep purr. It vibrates his whole body, down to his increasingly-prominent bones. Could it really be true? That somehow eating them wouldn't hurt them? That the transformation wrought by their consumption wasn't just an odd side effect, but that it was turning them _into_ what they ate, literally, joining their consciousness to that of the snax? They all seemed happy, content, perhaps... Sometimes they fought, but mostly they coexisted. It would be nice to be like that, wouldn't it. And was it wrong if that was what they _wanted_? He stares at the cake sitting patiently in front of him, expectantly, his breathing rasping in and out of his throat. It looks _so_ good, with its immaculate frosting and spongy pastry layers, as good as all the birthday cakes he never got... He reaches for it, cupping it gently and pulling it closer to him. "What's it like... t'be family?"

The voice from below rumbles once more, only uttering a few words, but the sheer, primal _understanding_ in them is astounding _. "Whole. To never be alone. When hurt, you will know healing. When in danger, you will know unity. You have welcomed bugsnax into your heart. Now, let the bugsnax welcome **you**."_

Tears well in Gramble’s eyes at the answer he's given. He squeezes them shut with a sigh. Yes, that sounded nice... To heal, to be protected, to be welcomed. To be loved without saying the word itself, and to love in return. The baby cakelegs continues to stare, not once moving to squirm away or showing an ounce of hesitation. Although the fake eyes of the creature can't see, it still imparts a sense of understanding to its task. As it's pulled closer, its little candle legs gently lay themselves onto Gramble's hands. Accepting, patiently, what is to come.

Although he's been reassured, he can't bring himself to watch what he's about to do. He slides the little cakelegs closer, almost as if to cuddle it like one of the stuffed frogs he'd made for Filbo, opens his mouth, and finally, bites into it. From what he's (unwillingly) observed, they didn't seem to feel pain, didn't struggle or cry out, but he tries to make it quick anyway. They were doing this for him. It was the least he could do.

The baby doesn't make a sound, unlike the others that Gramble had seen eaten by the other grumpuses in Snaktooth. It was almost as if it was trying to spare his feelings, make it less painful for him by being silent entirely. It doesn't really taste like Gramble had expected. It doesn't have a cakey texture, more dense and chewy and way too sweet. Beggars couldn't be choosers, though, and he does admittedly feel a little better after eating what had to be his first solid food in weeks, maybe months.

The change isn't obvious at first, and for a moment the only thing different is the feeling of some actual substance in his stomach, before there's a tingling in one of his arms as the snakification begins Gramble manages to pick himself up off the floor and sit up, scratching at his arm and blearily watching as his own flesh shifts before his eyes, fur falling out and a coiling pattern of colorful stripes forming on his skin, or breaking out into spots that looked like funfetti flecks. He knew that would happen, although, it doesn't seem to be entirely physical, as something in the back of his mind is becoming more and more apparent until it finally collects into an (internal) voice. A _different_ voice this time, not the one from underground. It sounds just like the snak he'd just eaten. _"You won't have to be alone again,"_ It says without words, in the "voice" of the baby cakelegs. Beneath that, there's a dim rumble, a collection of voices starting to come into focus slowly.

"Wha-" He glances around, half expecting to see another one waiting for him, but of course, it's just him, and the Kweeble he'd freed earlier wandering around. It takes a moment to sink in, as he stares down at his transformed hand, claws blacked and curled like wicks at the end of his newly-striped paws. "...y'all are... you can talk to me now? Is that what you meant?" Sniffling, he wipes at his eyes with his normal hand.

 _"Yes!"_ The "voice" chirps, more of a recollection of sound formed into something akin to words. Like when you remember how a song sounds in your head. There's almost a flash of joy- of _love_ \- that is sent back in return, positive and bright. "Becoming snax means that we live with you, inside of you. The others will come around soon enough, until we all can understand one another," They communicate, and the low rumble in the back of his mind reverberates with some sort of affirmation. All of the snax on the island being connected... well that can't be so bad.

Gramble chokes out a little laugh-sob, hugging his transformed arm to his chest. The gravity of it all is just beginning to hit him. They'd been serious when they said he'd never be alone. He was doing more than just speaking on their behalf, now. He was sharing his own flesh and blood, like they were roommates in the same body. Too bad there wasn't much of a body to lend them. "I... I just got so many questions," he says, leaning back against the wall of the barn. The other snax chitter in their pens, pawing at the latches of the doors. Though his limbs are still shaky, Gramble manages to get to his feet, going to the pen of the beach snax and undoing the latch. With so many thoughts buzzing inside his tired brain, he decided he'd just focus on what was right in front of him. "Y'all never spoke to any of the others like this, did you? They never said anything about the snax talking to them..."

 _"No, there's gotta be **understanding** to have communication... it's a two way channel,"_ The snax communicated, and as the ones in the pens were let free they move to mill about curiously _. "But we can answer any questions you have, there's no rush... we do have all the time in the world, now."_

Right, that made sense. If the others only saw the snax as food, they'd make no attempt to talk to them or understand them beyond ways to catch them more easily, or in Wambus' case, grow them from the dirt. "Well... I dunno about that, everyone else'll be up soon, and they'll see me..." Gramble leans on the gate as they gather around his feet, resting against it, already tired again from that little bit of effort he'd expended. There were a lot of things he could ask right now, but one question swims to the front of his mind. "Is... Is Liz still alive? D'you know what happened to her?"

There's a small hum, a little note of contemplation. The rumble returns before the cakelegs answers. Apparently, they're in contact with the rest of all of the snax _... "Lizbert. Yes, she's alive,"_ They spoke, though they hadn't seemed to know previously _. "She's with the multitude of the bugsnax on the island. She's safe, though she hasn't been able to return yet."_

Ah, he was beginning to understand how this worked. His little cake friend was part of the hive, but they didn't know everything all the rest of them knew. That was good, really. Gramble figured it'd be pretty overwhelming to hear everyone's thoughts at once. His eyes slip closed in relief as he sighs, "Oh, thank god... Half the folks in town are convinced she's dead, but I knew she wasn't. I knew she was out there, keeping an eye on me... If I tell 'em you told me, though, they're just gonna think I'm crazy." Like they didn't already. Filbo might believe him, though, and their new journalist friend. Gramble knew he was too weak to go after her, but they might be able to manage.

 _"She's okay,"_ They repeat, before they go quiet once more, as the dim hum of the multitude rises and wavers, communicating back and forth before Gramble's new cake friend answers. _"She's a part of us, too. She was so hurt, when we found her. But she's healing, healing with our help. It will take some time before she can try to come back on her own."_

Gramble turns to look out the open door of the barn. The sun is still coming up, but Wambus was an early riser. Better move quick if he wanted to get some of those peanut butter pods. "Oh, y'know what?" Gramble whispers as he peers out, looking for any sign of Wambus. "I oughta give you a name, lil' buddy. I give all my snax names, but if you've got one already..."

As Gramble walks, they react with small blips of curiosity, passing as they seem to acknowledge some of the objects littering the barn. As much information as they get from the Undersnax, they were still a newer individual, unfamiliar with the Grumpus settlement. As they're addressed, they give a faint curious noise _. "A name? I don't have a name, I'm just a Baby Cakelegs!"_ They pause with a small, considering hum. _"I've never had a name before."_

"I'll give you a real good name! Somethin' like, er..." Gramble pauses as he reaches under the fence to pluck a peanut butter pod off the plant. The thought of having to choke down more of these things just to keep body and soul together made him want to throw up, but out of all the sauces Wambus grew, it was the most substantial. "...Cakerie? D'you like that one?"

 _"Oh... that's a very nice name! Very cute..."_ They said, seemingly pleased with the decision. Though they are probably just glad to have a name given at all _. "Oh sauce! Sauce is yummy,"_ They remark, seeing the peanut butter.

Gramble smiles to himself. At least one of them enjoys the stuff. "Aw, I'm glad you like it. Comin' up with names for my snax is one of my favorite parts of training them. I... I even came up with my own name y'know." There's a note of pride in his voice as he fills his arms with pods.

 _"Your name is a wonderful name too! We snax don't usually make our own names... It sounds so cool to just give yourself a name!"_ Cakerie responded mentally, bubbling with excitement.

"Oh, but I can tell you about all that later. You've never actually had sauce before, I bet. I always wondered about that, bugsnax being attracted by sauce even though they never seem to actually eat it.”

_"Oh, about that! Well-"_

"Gramble? The hell're you talking to?"

Gramble freezes at the sound of Wambus' voice from behind him, clutching his cakey arm to his chest. "I, er... Uh..." If his mind weren't gummed up by hunger maybe he could have come up with an excuse, but all he can do is stammer uselessly.

Cakerie is quiet as Wambus remarks, seemingly mulling over something. _"Tell him you're talking aloud to keep yourself awake. I think he'd believe it."_

Shoot, that was a really good idea. Gramble manages to stop himself from nodding to Cakerie's words. "Um, I... I'm just tryna stay awake, ramblin' to myself."

He hears Wambus grumble something, the sound of footsteps on the damp grass and the scrape of metal on wood as Wambus picked up some farming implement. His heart is thudding in his ears. If he could just get back into the barn without Wambus seeing...

"Hey!"

His head snaps around to see Wambus frowning at him, metal hoe resting on his shoulder. "What'd I say to you about stealing my sauce? I told you what the deal was gonna be. If don't share your food source, then _I_ don't share mine. Put 'em down."

Gramble frowns, lips pulling back from his teeth in a little snarl as he backs towards the barn. "You can grow more sauce whenever you want!"

"And _you_ could get more snax, since you're all such good friends like you keep sayin'." Wambus points the hoe towards Gramble. "Or do they not like you as much as you keep tellin' yourself they do? Drop 'em, or else."

There's a bristling, animistic urge to snarl and _fight_ from the snax in Gramble's body, and he can feel a slight shift under his skin. Something like melted frosting drips down Gramble's arm, spattering on the ground. The wicks on his snakified fingers sharpen into points, gearing up for a fight if there needed to be one, Cakerie responding to his rising heart rate and adrenaline, anticipating a fight. His hackles raise, fur running down his back sticking up in a pathetic attempt at intimidation as that little jolt of rage runs through his body.

Wambus falters at the sight, frowning. Sure, Gramble had been mad at him before, but never ready to _attack_ like he seemed to be now. "...wait a minute, what happened to your arm?" He gestures with the hoe as Gramble scrambles to cover it up, the frosting-like substance oozing from between the "slices" of cakey flesh.

"N-nothing, it's just- I think it's infected-"

"You little hypocrite!" Wambus snarls. "What, so you can eat 'em but the rest of us get to go hungry? Is that what's goin' on now?"

"No!" Gramble practically yelps, trying to back up, but he brings his paw down on one of the sauce pods and slips, falling on his back. At first he thinks he must have fallen on a sharp rock and cut himself, but that thought is quickly dismissed as Gramble feels something _moving_ up his arm, separating itself into a brand new limb, or- or _something_. Something under his skin at the base of his shoulder breaks the skin and oozes, sickly sweet-smelling substance sliding over fur to the grooves of the "candle" base on his arm. Using that as a basis for forming itself, the "frosting" solidifies into a head, resembling a slice of cake.

Wambus stares, frozen, the hoe still raised as the goop forms into a cakelike head, just like the little snak that had so generously donated itself before… It only looks docile for a moment before its layers separate in a loud _screech_. The layers are lined with black wicks twisted into points, appearing as a multitude of mouths with sharp teeth. Substance drips off and reveals an almost strawberry-like pattern down its "neck", though the red almost makes it look similar to blood. They bare their many "teeth" at Wambus, looking like a floppy cake sock puppet.

Both Gramble and Wambus jump at the sound, fur standing on end, Wambus raising the gardening tool defensively. "What in the name of Grumpus Christ!" He shouts. "Gramble, what the hell did you do?!"

"I don't know!" Gramble cries. "I didn't- I didn't tell 'em to do that!"

"Hold still, I'll get it!" Wambus raises the hoe, prepared to swing.

"Wambus, no!" Gramble grabs the creature by the head and hugs it to his chest, heedless of its needley teeth. "Don't hurt Cakerie! Please, don't-"

Cakerie hisses at Wambus, teeth bared in a snarl. Even if they aren't especially sharp, they don't want to hurt him. "Go. AWAY!" The little snak hisses at Wambus, in the same squeaky Baby Cakelegs voice, now uncannily speaking the same language as the rest of them.

Wambus barks out a shocked laugh at that, lowering the hoe after a moment of stunned bemusement. "What in god's name..."

"Don't hurt 'em..." Gramble clutches Cakerie to his bony chest, rising with panicked, shaky breaths. "Wambus... You don't understand. They... they spoke to me, the island itself spoke to me, and it send this little one to help me. It saw I was gonna die otherwise. I'd never eat any of my own. Cakerie just wants to protect me, don't you?" He cranes his head to look at the cake, loosening his hold on them. "That's it... It's gonna be alright. Wambus isn't gonna hurt you now..."

"He raised a metal stick at you! He was gonna hurt you!" Cakerie insists in their little non-threatening voice, as intimidating as they were trying to sound, though they do seem to have calmed down a little, their "teeth" merging back into their layers. Their googly eye is still trained on Wambus distrustfully.

"I wasn't gonna hurt him. Just tryna scare him a little." Wambus scoffs. "Can't believe I'm arguing with a cake. This is not natural, Gramble."

Gramble manages to sit up, cradling Cakerie in his arms. Now he can see the pattern down their "neck", reminiscent of strawberry shortcake. That wasn't something he'd seen in any snak before. Maybe it was something special, just for the two of them. Hot tears prick his eyes as he pats them, as if comforting an anxious pet. "How do you know what's natural? Liz didn't get to finish her research. There's so much we still don't know... They told me she's alive, too. She's with them." He peers up at Wambus, who was still clutching that hoe a little too tight.

"She's being healed," Cakerie repeats what they told Gramble, though they don't seem as keen on being friendly with Wambus. They have decided they do not like Wambus. "Besides, none of _you_ can communicate with the snax because you just see them as food! You're mean," Cakerie says, before turning away to no longer face the farmer as they are essentially pouting. They are a _baby_ Cakelegs, after all, a bit immature.

Wambus gives a low, thoughtful growl, eyes narrowed. "Maybe we'd be more inclined to chat if there was anything else to eat on this damn island." He looks past Gramble towards the rest of the village, where some of the others have started to wander over to see what the screaming was all about. "You better get ready to explain yourself, pardner. You're on your own for this one."

With a casual tip of his hat, he turns back to his garden, as if none of that had just happened. Which, Gramble could understand. It was a lot, Liz being alive, the snax being capable of whatever _this_ was... He feels his heart rate jump again at the mere thought of what _Floofty_ would want to do with his new friend. Gramble grabs one of the fallen peanut butter pods, cradling Cakerie with his other arm, and stumbles back inside the barn, pulling the door closed behind him and latching it. Soon, he'd show them all, just... not right now. "Look..." he smiles weakly, offering the pod to Cakerie. "You'll still get to try it after all."

Cakerie peers at the pod curiously, bumping it with the edge of their face almost like a snout. They hum softly, more focused on what's immediately in front of them than any lasting implications of the future. That was fine, though. They didn’t need to worry about that sort of thing. Gramble would do plenty of that for both of them. "Peanut... It's such a nice color! Like dirt," They say cheerfully, layers still flapping like a sock puppet.

"Yeah! Just like dirt... Tastes a lot better, though. And believe me, I've tried it." Anything to not have to eat ketchup again. Gramble carefully bites the top off the waxy capsule, offering it up to Cakerie. "Y'know... I didn't expect none of this, but it's good you can kinda... show yourself, like this. Makes me seem a little less nuts. And goodness knows I’m gonna need it once the word gets out. I won’t hide you, though," He reassures them, patting their little cakey head. “Once they get over the shock of seeing you, I’m sure everyone else will come to love you as much as I already do.”


End file.
